Thread and Needle
by Slivering
Summary: When Momo and Ryoma are forced to spend their summer knitting, both of them are ultimately dreading it. However, after being stabbed by several needles, having a pillow fight, and bickering with Momo, Ryoma decides that knitting is a worthwhile task after all.


**Title**: Thread and Needle

**Word Count**: 5840

**Pairing:** Momo/Ryoma, however, it can be viewed as friendship or shounen-ai - however you wish to see it. There isn't anything explicit like a mention of a crush or kissing or anything, but there is a lot of moments where they seem close. So yeah, if shounen-ai's not your thing, it can be seen from a friendship standpoint too.

**Author's Notes:** I'm on a roll, aren't I? Haha, actually, I'm not. The past two one-shots are actually old one-shots that I never posted. This ones old too, but it was left incomplete, so I decided to finish it up. Anyway, a couple of warnings: I've never knitted in my life, so I have no idea how knitting works - thus, some of the information might be wrong. But I hope it doesn't distract from the story. Two, I torture Ryoma a lot by getting him stabbed by needles. It's a lot of fun. Haha. :D Okay, enjoy! (_try_ to enjoy!)

* * *

**THREAD AND NEEDLE **

* * *

It was a boiling summer day, the heat rolling in thick waves, and Momo and Ryoma weren't enjoying the air conditioning of their homes. Instead, both of them were forced to sit outside by their scheming parents until they agreed upon what they were asked. Momo banged his head absentmindedly against the wall of the porch, while Ryoma sat on the steps with a Ponta.

"I can't believe this," Momo said. "I really can't. My mother's evil."

Ryoma wiped sweat from his forehead. "It's not your mother. It's mine and yours combined."

"Exactly. They can't expect us to sit here and die of a heat stroke until we agree, can they?"

"My mom will. She's stubborn."

Momo glanced at Ryoma, and grinned. "So _that's _where you get it from." He looked all too happy at the prospect that Ryoma's stubborn genes came from his mother. Ryoma shrugged, ducked his head down, and drank more of his Ponta. The blistering heat shone on his face, and he pushed at some of his hair.

"Maybe we should just do it."

Momo blinked. "You…want to do it?"

"No," Ryoma sounded indifferent. "But it's for a good cause. Might as well."

"There are many things we can do for a good cause. We could donate money. We could run a campaign. I just don't get why we have to-" Momo couldn't finish the sentence, too forlorn at the prospect of what they had to do.

"Knit." Ryoma said grimly.

"Knit sweaters," Momo nodded, and swallowed. "It's unmanly. I mean, I get you doing it. You kind of look like a girl, and I can actually see you sitting there knitting sweaters but – " he paused when a deathly glare was sent his way. With a shrug, and a sheepish smile, he continued, "but I have all this muscle, and my gelled hair, and just…sitting there knitting sweaters…what would the girls think?"

"Well, Momo-senpai," Ryoma glared. "The girls don't care about you anyway."

"Hey. That was offensive."

"You called me a girl first."

"No. I just said you looked like a girl…"

Another vicious glare made Momo shrink away and stop arguing. He was certain that Ryoma's face was going to permanently stay in a glare one of these days. But still, he understood why he was in a bad mood. They were sitting in the excruciating heat, being forced to knit sweaters, and their parents didn't understand that they were men. Well, _he _was a man. He didn't know about Ryoma.

"Momo-senpai, let's just do it."

Momo frowned. "If you're sure. But if they give me pink wool…"

"Maybe peach-colored wool," Ryoma said. "Like your name." With that, he stood up, brushed off his shorts, and stalked into the house to tell his mother he would knit sweaters for the summer. Momo gaped at the doorway, cursed, then stormed after Ryoma to tell him that _peach _was essentially pink and that his smirk would get him nowhere in the real world.

**=][=**

Momo understood now why Ryoma had agreed so easily, but he wasn't going to let his kouhai get away with it so easily, no he wasn't. Their parents had said they had to knit one good sweater of the summer that they were going to donate to poor kids who needed it for the cold. There was no special place they had to go, and nobody was going to check their progress.

And Ryoma was going to bribe Sakuno into making the sweater.

"I'm not bribing," Ryoma said. "She likes to knit. And she'll do it if I ask."

"She'll do it because she likes you," Momo said, adamant on not being the only one who would end up knitting. "You're just using her love, Echizen. It's not good at all."

"Stop," Ryoma frowned. "Don't try to make me feel guilt-"

"You know she'll do whatever you ask her to do. That doesn't mean you should take advantage of it. And besides, are you really going to leave your poor senpai to knit on his own?" Momo drilled in the guilt, hoping that Ryoma would resign and knit sweaters with him. He couldn't fathom doing it on his own. He could just see himself mournfully sitting on the front porch on the rocking chair, knitting peach-colored sweaters for the rest of his life.

"Fine," Ryoma gave his senpai a look. "But we make it fun."

"Fun?"

"Whoever finishes the sweater last has to buy burgers for a month."

Momo sighed, and grinned with a twinkle in his eye. "Honestly, I already buy the burgers anyway, but I'm up for the challenge, Echizen," he squashed his poor kouhai into a painful headlock, suddenly excited to knit sweaters. "And don't think I'm going to lose," he said with confidence. "Didn't you know, Echizen, I've been knitting all my life."

Ryoma's smug face returned. "That's kind of lame, Momo-senpai."

For the second time, Momo was left gaping as Ryoma strolled away. He frowned, clenched his fist, and decided he was definitely going to win.

**=][=**

They picked a rainy Saturday. The rain thundered against the window as Ryoma and Momo gathered at Momo's couch with knitting supplies and knitting books. They both sat on separate ends of the couch, not looking at each other.

Momo flipped through the guide. "Ugh. This looks confusing."

"Huh. It looks kind of simple."

"_You _would say that," Momo scowled. He hated reading. He decided he would just jump right into it and rely on instinct to make the sweater. Taking the bright blue wool and a knitting needle, he began to randomly try to adjust things according to the pictures in the book. Ten minutes later, he had a mess, and was just about ready to tear his hair out.

"I _hate _knitting."

Ryoma glanced up. "It's okay." He had a rectangle knitted, although he wasn't sure how he was supposed to shape that into a sweater.

"Of course you'd be good at it," Momo muttered. "I knew you were a girl."

He glanced up to see if Ryoma had heard, but the boy was focused on his knitting. Momo frowned, and observed him for a moment, wondering if he could just try to copy what Ryoma was doing. Ryoma caught him looking immediately.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing," Momo frowned, and tugged at the tangled mess he had made. "I just…"

"Need help?" Ryoma offered.

"No," Momo glared. Ryoma blinked. Momo sighed, and slumped his shoulders. "_Yes,_ maybe a little," he said grudgingly. He shifted over so that he was closer to Ryoma, and the boy walked him through the simple steps he had learned from the book. Momo tried to listen, but knitting was _so _boring, and he couldn't help but be distracted.

"Are you listening?" Ryoma snapped at one point.

Momo blinked, and stopped staring at the window. "Huh. Oh, yeah."

"You weren't," Ryoma nearly growled, but stopped short and went pale. "Ow," he groaned, and he dropped his rectangle and held his finger. The needle was stuck in his flesh, and he bit his lip in pain. "Pull it out," Ryoma said. Momo grinned victoriously. "And why should I? You've been nothing but smug to me all week."

"It's bleeding," Ryoma winced, and he slowly tugged the needle out of his finger. It throbbed in pain. "Momo-senpai. Do something."

"Suck it up?" Momo suggested.

A glare was sent his way, and Momo grinned. He stood up and snatched Ryoma by the wrist and dragged him to the kitchen sink. "Run it in under cool water," he advised. Ryoma complied, and stuck his hand under the chilly water. As it pooled over his bleeding finger, he said, "I hate knitting too, Momo-senpai."

"Yeah, it sucks," Momo opened a cabinet and took out some bandages. "But at least you're good at it."

Ryoma shrugged.

"You're good at everything."

His eyebrows shot up. He smirked. "I know, Momo-senpai."

Momo rolled his eyes, and ruffled Ryoma's hair too hard on purpose. Ryoma swatted his hand away, and caught the bandage box that was tossed his way. He took out a bandage and carefully wrapped it around his injured finger, waggling it to test it out. He hoped it wouldn't affect his tennis, although it didn't hurt much anymore.

"You wanna take a break to eat?" Momo asked.

"Procrastinate?" Ryoma corrected.

"Yeah. Okay, smartass. Procrastinate."

Momo flicked through the cabinets, and finally settled for microwaving some leftover pasta. The microwave hummed, and he tried to remind himself that this was all going for a good cause. That the frustrating hours of sitting there tangling thread together would make a kid somewhere really warm. Still, he was obviously a horrible knitter, and Ryoma was being stabbed by the needles, so he didn't have a good view towards it.

When the pasta was warmed, he evenly put it in two bowls, and pushed one to Ryoma.

"I wonder who's going to get my sweater," Momo said.

"I feel sorry for them already," Ryoma replied.

"Hey!"

Ryoma smiled and chewed on his food.

"Rude freshmen these days," Momo said to himself with the shake of his head. He muttered, "It can't be helped." He didn't get a reply, and Momo sighed, twisting the pasta oddly around his fork. The house was empty. His mother and father were out shopping, and his little sister (thankfully) was at a friend's house. So he was stuck with Ryoma, knitting away his Saturday.

"Hey, maybe we could ask Sakuno-chan if she can teach us?" Momo suddenly said.

"Teach _you_."

"Hey, it's not like you're pro or something."

"I can manage," Ryoma said, and he stood up and walked to put his plate by the sink.

"Says the boy who stabbed himself with the needle," Momo said under his breath, but he stood up and followed Ryoma's actions. Once the bowls were clean and their stomachs were satisfied, they wearily made way back to the couch. The knitting supplies kind of dangled all over, and Momo got a good look at his masterpiece. It was terrible.

Ryoma slid into the couch, took the needle and thread, and began to knit again.

Momo stared at the pages of the book, hoping it would somehow miraculously absorb into his brain. Minutes passed by, and no miraculous absorbing happened. Momo sighed, and flipped through the pages absentmindedly. The rain had let up, and sunlight poured in through the window, beckoning him to go outside and play tennis.

A sudden cry broke him out of his thoughts.

"Ow," Ryoma hissed, and Momo noticed he had once again stabbed himself with the needle. He clutched at the finger next to his bandaged one, biting his lip hard. "Momo-senpai," he groaned. "I hate this so much."

"It's your punishment for being a brat."

Ryoma glared, stood up, and stormed over to the kitchen sink to run his finger under water and wrap a bandage around. Momo sat quietly for a while, swaying slightly to the sound of the whirring fan above them. He ran his fingers across the fabric, and gripped the tiny needle. If he could just figure this out, he could win against Ryoma.

"_Ow_!"

The yelp made Momo drop his things and walk briskly to the kitchen. He didn't want to seem worried, but it had sounded like Ryoma was in great pain. He entered to see Ryoma clutching his finger, face scrunched up. Blood trickled down his palm, and Momo's mouth dropped open to see the knife lying on the ground.

"What _happened_?" he said.

Ryoma sucked on his finger, eyes wide.

Momo frowned, and grasped Ryoma's wrist again, pulling him to the sink. He turned the tap to full blast, and shoved Ryoma's hand under. Ryoma groaned and red mixed with clear as the water washed the blood away into the drain. "Seriously, what an idiot," Momo said. "And you said you could manage."

"It wasn't my fault," Ryoma bit his lip. "The box with the bandages wouldn't open."

"It should've," Momo narrowed his eyes. "So you got a knife and tried to open it?"

"Yeah. Except I accidentally cut myself with it."

Momo shook his head, and grabbed the box. He rolled his eyes. Ryoma had been opening it from the wrong side. For someone who was so good at tennis, got the highest marks in the class, and learned knitting in a jiffy, he sure could be stupid. Momo took a bandage out and grabbed Ryoma's hand, gently wrapping it around the injured finger.

With two bandages from the needle and one from the knife, Ryoma's fingers were in pain.

"It hurts," he complained.

"Not my fault," Momo chided with a sigh. "I don't know how you're going to knit."

"Momo-senpai could do it for me."

Momo laughed like he was crazy. "Yeah, right. I can't even get my own done. Besides, we have a _deal_ going on, remember?" That shut Ryoma up, but Momo did feel kind of bad for his kouhai. Well, it really didn't matter. Even if it took two weeks for Ryoma's fingers to get healed and for him to start on his sweater again, Momo would probably still lose.

He had concluded he was a hopeless knitter.

"Maybe I can get out of it," Ryoma said. "If I show my mom my hand."

"So deal's off?" Momo said in the most challenging tone he could. He really couldn't imagine doing it by himself. It could possibly be the most boring thing in the world. Ryoma frowned deeply, and his eyes glinted against the sliver of sunlight from the kitchen window. With a brusque shake of his head, he smirked.

"Of course not."

"Good," Momo smiled widely. "Now let's knit."

**=][=**

Ryoma's hands felt like they were breaking.

He slid the needle in and out, already used to the pattern. Knitting was simple, really. He didn't know why Momo couldn't get the hang of it. But his _poor _fingers. He glared at the odd square he'd created, and tried to ignore the constant throbs that shot up his hands. Beside him, Momo hummed, flicking through the knitting guide but not really reading the words.

"Momo-senpai," he sighed. He slid over. "Just close the stupid book."

Momo looked up. "I'm _reading _it."

"No, you're not."

"I am," Momo claimed, and he sunk back into the couch and covered his face with the book.

Ryoma shrugged. It would be his loss when he ended up paying for burgers every day. Ryoma curled and uncurled his fingers, trying to loosen them up. How long had it been? He glanced at the clock on the wall. Three hours. And one hour had probably been spent eating and getting bandages for his hands.

So he'd been knitting for a total of two hours.

"I'm going home," Ryoma yawned. "We have the whole summer."

Momo looked up from his book that he was supposedly reading. "Okay. But remember, while you're at home playing video games, I'm going to be that much closer to finishing my sweater," he tried to sound intimidating, but it didn't work very well for he hadn't knitted a thing. Not even a 1 by 1 inch square. Nothing.

Ryoma yawned again. He slipped his shoes on by the front door. "Whatever, Momo-senpai."

A second later, the door clicked shut, and Momo was left on his own. He stared at the knitting book, and the damn supplies, and could feel a headache coming. He deducted it was too much knitting. Throwing the book aside, and carelessly putting the knitting supplies into the box and shoving it under the centerpiece, he turned on the television.

He plugged his console in and got comfortable.

If Ryoma got to stop knitting, then why shouldn't he?

**=][=**

"I have a great idea. Let's just make two sweaters working together."

Momo's great ideas were never great, Ryoma concluded. It was the next day, another filled with rain and thunder, and the two of them were back at Momo's place on the couch. Knitting supplies splayed in front of them, and knitting book open once again, they tried to think of a reasonable solution to their problem.

"No," Ryoma said. "I'll just do all the work since you can't knit."

"You can't either," Momo pointed out.

That much was true. Ryoma's fingers ached, and although he had tried to start knitting again later yesterday night, he had only succeeding in stabbing another finger with the needle. He didn't know why it kept happening, but it hurt, and now his hands felt weak and pained. He dreaded knitting, and wanted to just wait and do it after a few weeks, but Momo wanted company.

"But what about the deal?"

"Deal's off?" Momo said. "I'll pay anyway."

Ryoma frowned. "That's no fun."

"Well, killing your fingers to the point that you can't play tennis won't be fun either."

Tennis was more important than knitting and burgers combined, so Ryoma couldn't help but give in. "Alright, but I'm not putting in a second more into this than you are," he said, with as much force as he could. Momo laughed nervously, and rubbed his neck. "Of course not," he tried to wave the notion off as if it were ridiculous.

"So, how is this supposed to work?" Ryoma untangled the fabric.

Momo snatched it from his hands. "I do the knitting."

Ryoma raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"And _you _tell me how to do it."

**=][=**

"No. In – no, _in._"

Ryoma sat next to Momo on the couch, and tried to stop himself from exploding. He was Echizen Ryoma. He did not explode. But at the moment, with Momo failing to get it, or simply maybe failing to listen, he was very close to doing it. "Momo-senpai, no, you're doing it wrong," Ryoma tried to grab the knitting supplies from him, but Momo held them tightly.

"Geez, be patient with me. Not everyone's a brilliant knitter like you."

"It's been over two and a half hours and we've got _nothing _done. Fuck patience."

Momo looked up, eyes wide. "You're not allowed to swear, Echizen."

"Why not?" Ryoma glared heatedly.

"Because you're still so young," Momo said matter-of-factly, before shoving the matter away. Ryoma grumbled that Momo was only a year older, but Momo didn't hear, too focused on creating the sweater. He just didn't get how to knit. It was boring. It was repeated. Nothing worked out like it was supposed to, and there were always holes everywhere.

Ryoma sighed, and pushed himself to sit up straight. "Okay. Again. Under, then over."

"I get that," Momo said. "It just doesn't work. Maybe you're a bad teacher."

"Or maybe you're just a bad knitter."

Momo looked exasperated. "Didn't we already figure that out? God, you're slow."

Ryoma felt like sticking a drill through Momo's head, but he gritted his teeth and dealt with it. He knew both of their tempers were clashing, and that they were taking out the frustration of knitting out on each other, but he just didn't get how Momo couldn't grasp this simple task. Surely he couldn't be _that _dumb.

With a sigh, he closed his eyes and said, "Okay Momo-senpai. Try again."

"Yeah, yeah. I will. Don't be like buchou."

"I'm _not._"

They bickered valiantly for a few minutes, before Ryoma got up to get a Ponta and returned to see Momo had finally knitted a little bit of something. He wasn't sure what it was exactly, but it was _something,_and he knew the arguing had paid off. "Hm, not bad," he said, and he slid back into the couch and sipped on his drink.

Momo grinned. "I know. It's better than yours."

Ryoma stared at his bandaged fingers. "Whatever Momo-senpai. Just get the stupid sweater done already."

**=][=**

After one week of bickering, knitting, instructing, and being inches away from killing, the first sweater was near completion. Momo was proud to say he had finally gotten the hang of knitting, and although the bright blue sweater looked kind of lopsided and strange, it was a sweater none the same. He was even more proud to say that he hadn't stabbed himself with a single needle.

"It's done," Momo said. His smile was a mile wide.

Ryoma looked up from his homework. "Really?"

Momo held up the sweater, hoping Ryoma wouldn't notice the stray strings flinging out of the fabric.

"Momo-senpai," Ryoma shook his head, and smirked very slowly. "There's a giant hole in the back."

Wide-eyed, Momo whipped the sweater around, and went pale when he noticed the ragged hole in the bottom portion of the sweater. Flustered, he wondered how he was going to fix that. He could knit it, right? His fingers ached. He really didn't want to knit it, and Ryoma was sitting there looking like the smuggest person in the world.

"It's fine," Momo laughed, scratching the back of his head. He got a piece of green felt fabric and held it over the hole. "We can just staple this over it and it'll be fine."

"Really?" Ryoma deadpanned.

"Yes," Momo stood up and marched out of the room. A moment later, he came back with a stapler. He stapled the fabric over the hole with precision, and was delighted to say that his plan worked. Well, it did make the sweater look a little odd, and it probably wasn't the most brilliant idea, but at least it had worked.

Momo held it up again. "It's a beauty, isn't it."

"Uh. Momo-senpai, it's just a sweater."

"_I _made it," Momo was glowing. "I actually knitted a sweater with no help!"

"No help?" Ryoma twitched, and glared. Momo grinned at him, and carefully laid his sweater out on the couch seat. He beamed. It felt really good to actually complete it. He glanced over to see Ryoma shrugging, like he couldn't care less. _Of course the brat wouldn't care,_Momo thought. He lifted the sweater and slipped it into his backpack.

"We still have to make another one."

"Yeah."

Momo smiled. "So, how're your fingers? It's almost been two weeks."

Ryoma glared.

"And it looks like you're doing your homework just fine. You were gripping that pencil and writing flawlessly."

Ryoma ignored the point of the statement. "Flawlessly," he remarked. "Big word for Momo-senpa-oof!" the couch pillow was thrown at his face. Ryoma grumbled to himself, and threw the pillow back at Momo, but Momo gracefully dodged. With a low growl, Ryoma picked up the pillow next to him and jabbed it at Momo.

Momo caught it. "Nice try," he said. "Too slow, though."

Ryoma's eyes narrowed, and he stood up. His eyes met Momo's.

"I think we need a break."

"Don't we?" Momo grinned, and fluffed the pillow in his hand. "You're going _down,_Echizen."

**=][=**

"I think I won that," Momo panted. They were both lying on the living room carpet, sweating. Pillows were haphazardly thrown all over. The knitting supplies were also all over the place, and Momo's sweater slipped out of the backpack. Ryoma's chest rose and fell, eyes closed. "No way. Momo-senpai barely got me."

"Yeah. Barely as in, like twenty times."

Ryoma rolled over, and buried his face in his arms. A sharp pang hit his hand.

"Ow!" he jerked upright, and clutched his hand.

"What? What happened?"

The gold eyes went dark. "_You _must have dropped one of the needles on the ground and the stupid thing stabbed me." He huffily stood up, glared at Momo some more, before hurrying to the kitchen to get a bandage. Momo had an odd feeling that the box would be empty by the time the project was done.

A moment later, he came back, and slid into the couch. He picked up the knitting supplies. "I'll knit. You sleep."

"What?" Momo frowned, and sat up. "Don't you want my help? It would be unfair."

"Trust me, Momo-senpai. You not disturbing me is possibly the biggest help I could get."

Well, then. Momo gave his kouhai the hardest look he could manage, before sitting on the opposite side of the couch and trying to sleep. He heard Ryoma grumbling as he knitted next to him, and absentmindedly glanced to see him working away. The kid was really into it. In an odd, focused way. Momo wondered if he secretly had a hobby of knitting, but his bandaged fingers said otherwise.

"Find something interesting?" Ryoma snapped.

"Yeah. Your fingers are shaking," Momo said cheerfully. "Want help?"

Ryoma steadied his hands, shot Momo a look.

"No. Sleep."

_Suit yourself,_Momo thought, and rested his head on the couch hand rest. From the sound of the whirring fan, and the lull of the humming of electricity lines, Momo found his eyes getting heavy quite quickly. He glanced one more time at Ryoma, who had his lips in a thin line, before letting himself drift off. He was just doing what Ryoma said, after all, and the brat could be stubborn as hell when he wanted to.

**=][=**

When he woke up, the sky outside was a deep orange. He glanced over to find that Ryoma had fallen asleep, head lolled and half-done sweater slipping off his lap. He bit back a laugh when he noticed two more bandages had been applied. Ryoma really was clumsy, despite his great tennis skills. Momo stood up and shook Ryoma's shoulder.

"Yo, wake up."

Ryoma groaned. One eyelids fluttered open, then another. "Momo-senpai?"

"You fell asleep," Momo lifted his sweater and ran his fingers over it. "Woah, you're pretty fast. It's almost done."

Ryoma tiredly grabbed the sweater back into his possession, and got the needle. Momo watched him knit for a few more minutes, but it was obvious the boy was about to fall asleep again. His eyes kept drooping, and he continuously messed up.

"Hey, shouldn't you head home now?" Momo asked.

Ryoma looked up, and rubbed at his eyelids. "Guess so."

Momo watched as he stood up, and dragged himself to the door. "Bye," he called, and the door shut softly behind him. Momo sighed, and stretched his arms. It was getting kind of late. He noticed Ryoma had left his sweater at the house, and was about to chase after him and hand it over, when he stopped. A small smile curved his face.

Momo sat back down, and grabbed the knitting supplies and Ryoma's sweater. He couldn't wait to see the look on Ryoma's face tomorrow.

It was about time he acted like a proper senpai.

**=][=**

"You ruined it."

Momo's smile dropped at the sharp words. He glanced down at Ryoma's sweater, the one he had finished the night before. He looked at the sweater from different angles, wondering how Ryoma had gotten the word _ruined _from. Sure, the half Momo had knitted looked a bit out of place, and sloppy, but the sweater was _done._

Ryoma should have been pleased.

"Don't be a brat," Momo said cheerfully. "We're free now."

Ryoma stared at the sweater. "You ruined it."

"Aw, c'mon. It's not even that bad."

Dark eyes slanted. Ryoma's fingers grasped the sweater and he pulled it to his chest. "Ruined," he muttered with a shake of his head, but he let the subject drop, obviously not too concerned about the state of his sweater. Momo frowned.

"You're really ungrateful, Echizen. Did you know that?"

"Fine" Ryoma held the sweater up to window, as if hoping the sunlight could make Momo's half look better. "_Thank_you for ruining the sweater."

Feeling hopeless, Momo snatched the sweater back in his grasp, and tucked it neatly under his arm. "Whatever! At least we're done – we're officially free from sweater knitting for the rest of our lives!" Momo paraded around his living room, holding up the two sweaters with accomplishment written all over his face.

Ryoma rolled his eyes, but offered a half-smile. "Che, now I can spend my rainy days watching tennis matches again."

"And eating!" Momo declared.

"And playing video games."

"And eating!"

Ryoma smirked, and shook his head. "I can't believe I had to spend my rainy days with Momo-senpai of all people."

"_Hey!_" Momo looked offended. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, senpai," Ryoma gave him a sassy look, before sauntering away. "Let's go show the sweaters to Kaa-san."

Momo trailed after him, grumbling about arrogant freshmen who stabbed themselves several times with needles.

**=][=**

Rinko did not look particularly satisfied as she wrapped the sweaters up and placed them neatly into a package to mail. One of them was done alright – although there was a weird patch on the back of it – and the other one simply looked ragged. "Those boys really don't know how to knit," she sighed to herself, folding the second sweater up as well.

Momo and Ryoma stood off to the side, patiently watching Ryoma's mother pack up the sweaters.

"So, Echizen's mom, how are the sweaters?" Momo asked eagerly.

Rinko pressed her lips together, and managed a fake smile. "Just lovely."

Momo whooped in victory, while Ryoma rolled his eyes. "She's lying," he muttered under his breath.

Momo flung his arm around him, pulling his kouhai close. "Don't be so sour, Echizen! Your mom loved our amazing sweaters, and that's all that matters!"

Ryoma rolled his eyes, and tried to pull away from Momo's tight grip, but the power player refused to let go. As a result, he found himself permanently squashed by Momo's side, his head in a very uncomfortable headlock. Grumbling about Momo being an idiot, Ryoma stretched out his hand, grimacing.

"You know, Kaa-san," he told Rinko. "I hurt myself a lot."

Rinko looked up at her son's hands. "You look fine to me, dear."

Ryoma blinked. He stared at his bandaged fingers and wondered in _what way _his mother got "fine" from.

"Stop whining about your hands," Momo demanded. "Do you know how many headaches I had to suffer from your bratty attitude?"

"…_You're _the one who sucked at knitting, senpai…"

"Nevertheless! Your attitude was very cheeky."

Ryoma smirked. "Nevertheless, you sucked at knitting."

"_Echizen,_" Momo pointed his finger accusingly. "You finished all my bandages."

"Momo-senpai!" Ryoma mocked. "You finished all my brain cells."

Rinko chuckled to herself as she saw the two boys bitter, before taping up the box. Once the box was fully secured, she placed it on the front steps of her house, mentally reminding herself to get it mailed as soon as possible.

"At least I'm taller than you!" Momo was now declaring.

Ryoma replied dryly, "…and yet you lose in every tennis match."

"I go easy on you!"

"_Uhuh,_" Ryoma drawled out, arching his brow at his senpai. Momo was so bad at bickering that Ryoma found himself having the upper hand in every single one of their conversations. Defiantly crossing his arms, Momo turned away from Ryoma, determined to give the boy the silent treatment. "I'm not speaking to you until you treat me like a senpai."

Ryoma did not reply, heading into the kitchen to get a cool can of Ponta from his fridge. When he came back, Momo eyed him, but still refused to say a word.

"Ne, Momo-senpai?" Ryoma tugged at Momo's arm.

Momo pressed his lips together and looked away.

"Senpaaaiii," Ryoma tilted his head cutely, and pouted. "Why are you being so mean?"

_Damn Echizen and his illegally cute face…_Momo twitched, and found himself staring at a pair of bright gold eyes. Exhaling loudly, Momo gave up on his short-term silent treatment, and wrapped an arm around Ryoma. "You're lucky you have such a forgiving senpai," he muttered, squeezing Ryoma's shoulders.

"You're lucky you have a kouhai willing to put up with you," Ryoma replied.

Scowling at Ryoma, Momo said nothing, and the two of them stood in silence for a moment. The hot air from outside was balanced by the air conditioning of the Echizen household, and the two junior high students stared fixatedly at the package lying on the rug. Inside of it was two sweaters – two sweaters that had been a result of injured fingers and many hours wasted – tucked neatly and ready to be shipped off.

Ryoma flexed his fingers, a soft smile on his face. "Ne, Momo-senpai?" He broke the silence.

"Yeah?"

"I think it was worth it."

Momo glanced at him, and then towards the package that had their sweaters. He thought about the bandages and blood from Ryoma, and the headaches of trying to read the damned book. He thought about Ryoma's bratty attitude and a waste of their afternoons. But then he thought about the shivering kid who would get the sweater, and how warm they would be, and the smile on their face when they wore it. His insides glowed.

"Yeah," he grinned. "Yeah, it sure was."

* * *

**Author's Notes**: Sooooo yeah. I know that was probably really long and boring and ultimately pointless, but if you enjoyed it, I would love if you left a review... o.O Haha, I find that people don't really like MomoRyo that much anymore. My TezuRyo stories are always way more popular than my MomoRyo, which is weird, cause in the earlier PoT days (like 2004ish), when I looked at old stories, the majority of the really good ones seem to be MomoRyo. The pairing has faded, I suppose. xD But then PoT isn't as popular as it used to be... (*cries*)... I wish more people posted stories because I find myself reading old stories again and again. Okay, I'm seriously rambling now. This is probably the longest A/N I've ever done. So I'm just going to stop talking. Now. NOW.


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